


poly pirate cuddle pile

by urcadelimabean



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/F, M/M, Non-platonic bedsharing, Platonic Bedsharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:56:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urcadelimabean/pseuds/urcadelimabean
Summary: Jack and the people who shared his bed over the years: Anne, Max, and Charles.





	poly pirate cuddle pile

Sometimes it was just Jack and Anne, the way it had always been.

Even though they were no longer lovers they still slept together, Anne’s head pillowed on Jack’s chest, his fingers drifting idly over her hair. Jack had never experienced anything quite like it, nothing so peaceful. He’d lie with his head in her lap as he talked about inconsequential things and she half-listened. When they were sailing, they’d fall asleep to the sound of the waves, and know that wherever the winds took them they’d still be home.

They slept like that through the period Jack was mourning Charles’ death. They slept like that back in Nassau after Max and Anne exchanged rings. Not all the time, since Anne slept most nights with Max, but often enough that Jack still thought of it as a habit–the familiar feeling of Anne’s smaller body next to him, the brief chaste kisses on the mouth or shoulder or brow. The grouchy curses Anne would mumble in the morning before getting up.

Sometimes Max would join them too, and there would be some jostling as everyone had to move over in the bed–some grumbling on Jack’s part if this occurred early in the morning. But he adored seeing Anne relaxed and content between himself and Max when they all woke up together. Sometimes Jack woke up with Max’s hair in his mouth, but he could forgive her for it since he had pulled the covers clear off her on more than one occasion. They’d gripe at each other over a sleepy Anne until their voices became too loud, their imitations of each other too boisterous. Anne would smother them both with pillows and it would only make them laugh harder.

Sharing a bed with Charles was similar in some ways to sharing a bed with Anne. Though Charles slept more deeply than Anne did, they were both wakeful, bothered by frequent nightmares that made Jack’s heart ache.

Charles kept his weapons by his bed. Jack had woken to find him reaching for his knife in a panic on more than one occasion, after which Jack would kiss his forehead, pull him back into his arms and hold him until they both drifted off to sleep again.

They’d been lovers, then Charles had been dead. When first he’d seen him months later, Jack had thought he saw a ghost. Then the ghost had walked up to him and kissed him on the mouth, warm and very alive. Jack had been the one to start awake for a while after that, reaching for Charles in the darkness and finding him breathing there beside him.

Kissing Charles was different from kissing Anne. Not because he was bigger or made out of solid muscle–though there was that–but because he kissed like he was giving all of himself, holding nothing back, the same way Max and Anne tumbled into each other’s arms and lost themselves in each other’s lips.

Charles liked to sleep with some part of himself on top of Jack, as if he was afraid Jack would get up and leave in the night–a thigh, an arm, or his entire body, chest pressed against Jack’s, the steady rhythm of his breath against his neck. So Jack would wake him before he got out of bed in the morning with a soft hand on his shoulder or his cheek. They would kiss. They would often end up doing a lot more than kissing. Jack would stay in bed a lot longer than he’d intended.

Jack’s favorite way to fall asleep was with Charles at his back and Anne in front, both nestled close, Anne’s head resting on his shoulder, Charles’ face buried at the back of his neck. Charles was only the third person whose hair inevitably ended up smothering him at some point in the night, but Jack was used to that by now.

Other times, Anne would come into their room in the morning, poke Jack with her foot, and tells him to move the fuck over. Jack would comply, and then lay his head in her lap as Charles snored soundly beside them, and Jack would think there was no better place to be in all the world.


End file.
